


Divided Loyalties

by DisasterLesbean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 16:37:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16350257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/pseuds/DisasterLesbean
Summary: She’d cracked the door to her soul and Bellatrix had every intention on slithering in.





	Divided Loyalties

She always knew there was a darkness inside her but this wasn’t what she expected. She knew the darkness would be pulled out from her, plucked from her very soul, if she wasn’t careful. There’s nothing careful about love. 

She knows when it started, this strange fascination. This uncontrollable urge. She knows she shouldn’t have indulged in it but here she stands. An unforgivable cast and a death sealed. Blood that she’ll never be able to rid herself of. 

She’d been following this road for some time. Despite it’s draw she could have controlled it. It was there but she would have been able to go along life pretending it wasn’t if it weren’t for her. At least, she could have kept it hidden from the others.

She doesn’t know why it tugged at her as it did. She wants to blame it on the horcruxes, she dearly wishes she could. That she could blame them for what she had just done. What she may have to do again. She can’t because she knows it’s been lingering in her for much longer. A dormant hunger, waiting.

It started before the horcruxes, before the war, even before Hogwarts. It started with that first letter. It started with the first time she had an accidental outburst of magic. It started when she knew she could.

It was a simple as it was complicated.

She’s a champion of the light, one of the golden trio. The brightest witch of her age. She was all of those things and none. She felt so paper thin and fake sometimes she was sure the rest of the wizarding world could see it. She wanted to be who they thought she was, she is in part, but she can’t help falling deeper.

The admittance of magic opened a door. It changed a fundamental truth in Hermione’s life. Knowledge now had a broader meaning. She had thought education in the muggle world was what would drive her. That letter changed everything.

Suddenly, freak accidents were no accidents at all. The world became much bigger than she thought it to be and naturally that meant her desire had grown with it. Desire to know, to learn, transformed into a desire to wield. To wield knowledge, to wield power. Magic flowed through her like rivers of temptation.

She had read everything she could get her hands on. Books on magic, Hogwarts, creatures, history, anything she could find. The library was more a home to her than her dormitories, especially the first year. It started with the letter but it blossomed with the restricted section. It tainted her with knowledge she didn’t yet know. Things she shouldn’t know. She wasn’t supposed to know and because of that she had to. 

She knows they wonder how the trio survived. It’s darker than the public would want to know. Exactly what Voldemort would want to know. Bloodier, grittier, lonelier.

The horcruxes weighed on them just as their task did. The constant running and hiding, the fear. The dark magic they would occasionally have to use. Hermione used it more than the other two, she knows this as do they. None of them speak of it. Just as they don’t speak of many things. Sometimes it’s easier to leave it unsaid.

Still, with the use of dark magic, she held herself at bay. She could use it but not succumb to it.

Moody, or rather Barty Crouch Jr., helped stoke the building fire as well. His lessons on the unforgivables danced across her mind for months, caressing her tongue and begging for their release. Somethings weren’t meant to be casted, to be understood. 

Dolohov’s curse changed her in a way none before had. It intrigued her, naturally, but that wasn’t it’s only effect. Her interest in the restricted section and dark magic had been controllable, a desire to know and wield but no real backing. 

His curse caused her to tremble with anger. Her mouth filled with iron and her sight reddened. She had been overcome with anger and she had wanted, needed, an outlet. This anger changed her she knew. She should have mentioned it to someone. Harry, Pomfrey, anyone. She didn’t. She couldn’t. It would have been admitting a failure. She told herself she wouldn’t let her curiosity of the darker magics taint her and admitting to such feeling felt like it was winning.

He had laid her out with one curse, damaged her so thoroughly, and he hadn’t even needed to speak. She knew she would be dead if he had incanted but the amount of damage even without words infuriated her. Her blood boiled in a way that it hadn’t before even throughout their trials up to that point.

It made that anger easier to draw from. It led her here, lowering her wand as the body fell.

Despite all this, all the darkness and anger she found herself slipping into, she knew her line. She knew where she lay. She was on the light side, no, Harry’s side. She loved Harry and Ron. She wouldn’t switch sides because of her decline into the dark. 

No.

She didn’t think she’d do this either. It was just instinct to protect her. In on swift flick of her wrist and the utterance of words she should never have spoken, her ties to the light were brutally severed. All because of her.

Bellatrix Lestrange. Whenever the Death Eaters were mentioned, whenever Voldemort was mentioned, Bellatrix Lestrange’s name was sure to follow. She’d heard of Bellatrix for years before ever meeting her. Usually in hushed whispers. Quiet out of fear much as she’d hear with Voldemort. Some would spit her name as if they could hex her if they only add enough venom. Murderer, crazy, evil. She’d heard it all. 

The first time she saw her was a thing of wonder. She was raw uncontrolled power. Manic energy harnessed into the most efficient duelist Hermione had ever seen. As amazed as she was she was equally terrified. They couldn’t win against her. She knew that immediately. Her curses flew faster than they could keep up. There was no wasted movement. She fluidly moved from curse to curse without pause. She pressed closer and closer onto the group.

She was unrestrained power. She had known at the time from the stories that she would be a force to reckon but seeing her in action made her breathless. It was terrifying to be on the other end of her. She knew that they had gotten themselves in deeper waters then they could handle when she started weaving curses across the battlefield. Her cackles could be heard over the back and forth between the two parties. 

She was certain they were going to die there. That after all their years of misadventures they’d finally bit off more than they could chew. 

When she went down, ribs pushing so far in and breathing a near impossible thing, she was grateful it wasn’t the witch who had cursed her. She would have been dead then and there had it been her instead of Dolohov. 

Unfortunately, she had claimed a different life that day.

This was the first time she saw her but it wasn’t the last. 

The next time they met, Bellatrix intended to take her life.

She’d ambushed her in Hogsmeade and separated her from Harry and Ron. The witch had wasted no time in her assault tossing a barrage of hexes Hermione was only just able to repel. Her ribs were still sore then, her chest still too tight and breaths were still coming short. She wouldn’t be a match for Bellatrix in her best shape but in this shape she was doomed. It was only luck she didn’t die that day either. Luck and something else.

Bellatrix had her cornered when it came to her. One of those books she shouldn’t have read and curse she should have seen. When she threw that at the witch she tossed it aside just as easy. It wasn’t the curse that saved her life but rather Bellatrix’s reaction to it.

She was hunting Hermione. She was here for no other reason than to kill her. She wanted to personally see to the death of the muggleborn companion to Harry Potter. She’d taken it personally that Hermione had managed to stun several Death Eaters during their last encounter. She taunted, goaded, and bragged to Hermione the entirety of their duel. It was admittedly a short duel but Bellatrix had managed to fit more than a few snide comments in. 

She remembers the way Bellatrix stopped abruptly after she threw the curse. A different kind of grin took its place and Hermione was even more terrified than before. She’d given Bellatrix something in that moment she hadn’t realized. She’d cracked the door to her soul and Bellatrix had every intention on slithering in.

The encounters became more frequent after that. Whenever she wasn’t at Hogwarts or with the Order, she’d find herself accosted by Bellatrix. The first few times surprised her. The very first had terrified her to her core but with each encounter she became less terrified. She survived each one and she knew that if that wasn’t Bellatrix’s intention, she wouldn’t have survived. 

Bellatrix was the most alluring person she’d ever met. She became addicted to their time together even if it came with singed skin and a bruised ego. She couldn’t get the upper hand on the other witch, no matter how hard she tried. She used progressively darker spells attempting to throw her off, catch her by surprise, but it only delighted her. 

The day she’d finally come out of an encounter on top would be the one that markedly changed them.

It was another sorry session of losing horribly when the idea struck her. Instead of backing away to fire off another hex, she leaned into Bellatrix. She’d kissed the corner of her mouth and in a much calmer manner then she was feeling she teased her. 

“You know, if you wanted me (to go on a date) all you had to do was ask.” Hermione remembers the sharp stab of fear she hadn’t truly felt since their first duel. Bellatrix had stood frozen with an indignant furrow between her brows. Forcing herself to walk away was another move that took all her Gryffindor courage to pull of. Bellatrix didn’t strike at her exposed back either.

She’d worried she’d crossed a line. She’d worried she wouldn’t see the other witch unless it was truly a battle to the death. Until she showed up not even a full day later. 

“You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” She’d husked into her ear, hand pressing into her chest, trapping her against a wall.

Their encounter became liaisons. A different tone was set. The visits became more regular, more dangerous. Hermione doesn’t know how they eluded discovery. They were more than obvious and how either of their allies hadn’t found them in a compromising position puts them to shame.

She recalls their last moment together, Hermione chewing her lip anxiously draped in sheets and fear. Fear of the outcome of the war, fear of what would happen to Bellatrix. Bellatrix hadn’t needed to ask. She wrapped her arms around Hermione in a surprisingly tender moment and laid her chin on Hermione’s shoulder.

It was moments like these that made it all worth it. The lies and deceit. The web she and Bellatrix had weaved. Lying to everyone who mattered to them. It was a necessity. She knew no one would understand why she loved Bellatrix. It was an inexplicable thing, really. 

Despite this, despite what Bellatrix came to mean to her, she was resolute in her loyalty. 

Until now.

“Pet.” The word rung across the battlefield, over the corpses of friends and enemies. It was a gunshot in the utter silence that had befell Hermione. Suddenly she could hear everything again. Feel everything again. She couldn’t look away from Molly Weasley’s corpse. She had done that. She killed the woman who slowly became more of a mother to her then her own. The nausea built up like acid replacing the adrenaline with disgust. She’d said she wouldn’t succumb to the darkness. She stands here a crumbling monument to all her false words and good intentions. 

Bellatrix’s hand covering hers made her look away from Molly’s body for the first time since she’d cast the killing curse. Bellatrix looked proud and that only dug the knife deeper. She looked like a predator whose prey finally made the wrong move. A giddy smile and twinkling eyes. She supposes it would always have been her plan. Use her feelings and weakness against her. It caused a brittle wave of resentment to crash over her and just as quick the wave came crashing down.  
Bellatrix always had faster reflexes than her own. She sees everything on the battlefield. She saw Fenrir’s approach and before she could even twitch the dark with had struck him dead.

She’d killed one of hers, Bellatrix had killed one of her own.

“Still want that date? I don’t think we’re much welcome around here.” Bellatrix asked her with the same giddy smile but saddened eyes. She still believed in her Lord but her actions had divorced herself from his army. From his side.

“Bella.” Hermione whispered appreciatively. The woman hadn’t needed to have left her side since Hermione had caved first. Broken her loyalties for the woman who had slowly claimed her mind and body. She supposes Hermione wouldn’t have had a place with Bellatrix and the Death Eaters and Bellatrix had known that. She ran her thumb along the woman’s jaw as she looked for an escape. They would have to run if they wanted to live, both sides would be baying for their blood.

They ran.


End file.
